An Opera About Cats?
by Little-Miss-Vamprechaun
Summary: Short story, complete. Just a bit of fun, really. Our favourites and least favourites at the Opera Populaire meet a suspiciously Andrew Lloyd Webberesque writer, talking to them about cats, dreamcoats and, of all things, musicals...! Enjoy!


**This is just a little bit of fun, spurred on my love of all musicals – especially Phantom :D****  
**

**For those who don't know, 'Phantom', 'Cats' and 'Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' were written by Andrew Lloyd Webber. It kind of helps you get the story if you know that. Surprisingly, this also means ****I don't own any of them****. I do, however, own two cats, a very groovy coat and a half mask I made in art. Does that count?**

**There's a little – but very obvious - Monty Python reference at the end. Cookies to those who notice it. And don't worry - the Phantom does appear in this…**

Firmin took a deep breath and counted to ten very slowly. It had turned out to be one-of-those-days. The world of opera was a crazy place at the best of times, especially seen as this specific opera house had a tendency to be the home of psychotic murdering geniuses in half masks. Now, however, Firmin was facing a new kind of terror; a writer.

He took another deep breath, and asked rather meekly "Cats?"

The man in front of him was polite, well dressed and at least looked relatively sane, which made a nice change to the normal bumbling idiots who came along claiming to be writers. Firmin's job was to sort out which opera's the Populaire would be showing next, and it wasn't a job he enjoyed. Most of the time the opera's where awful, the playwrights were maniacs (as writers usually are :P) and he'd have the trouble of 'letting them down gently'.

This writer was scarily different though, because, when you looked at him, he fooled you into thinking he was sane. But, come on… cats?

"Indeed!" said the man, and there was a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke of his creation. "There's not much acting, really, just singing and dancing –"

"You want us to show an opera about _cats_?"

The man paused. "Well, yes. But it's not really an opera, it's more of a _musical_."

Firmin raised one heavily plucked eyebrow. "Ah, I see," he lied. "Well. I don't really think we're interested in something about – ah, André! Why don't you come here and see this delightful man about his _musical_, eh?"

Fortunately for Firmin, André, Raoul and their top soprano, Christine, had wandered into his office. Andre and Raoul, not being the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, didn't notice the warning signs on their partners face. Christine, who was a little clever than her halfwit bosses, did. There was the fake grin, the urgency in his voice and the way that words 'HELP ME' seemed to shine in his eyes.

"New musical, eh?" Andre said gruffly picking up the script. He glanced at the title. "Cats? An opera about cats?"

The man gritted his teeth for a second. "No. It's a musical about Cats, as I said before."

"Oh, that's _cute_," cut in Raoul, Vicomte and professional fop.

Andre stiffened slightly. "It is not cute. Sorry to be frank, Mr-?"

"Webber."

"- Mr Webber, but this is utterly ridiculous!" Andre announced pompously. The man stiffened slightly. In the shadows, Firmin grinned. "I mean, cats? Can you imagine? What will it be about, bowls of milk and hairballs? I'm sorry, but we at the Opera Populaire pride ourselves on showing far classier things than operas about cats – oh, sorry, _musicals_ about cats." He stopped. "What is a musical, anyway?"

The man sighed slightly. "It's like an opera, but you can sing normally. Oh, and there's always lots of dancing."

"Sounds dreadful," said Firmin, obviously disgusted. "I'd absolutely hate to be involved in a _musical_."

Stood at the side, Christine rolled her eyes.

Raoul was looking confused. "You say there's lots of dancing in musicals, right...?"

"Yes."

"Well… how do you get the cats to dance?" There was a small pause while Andre and Firmin pondered this too. "And sing, for that matter. I've never actually heard a singing cat, apart from Ole Madame Bishop's cat, and even that turned out to be a parrot in the end -"

"He's right," muttered Andre to Firmin. "I've certainly never seen a cat sing or dance. Don't know how the man thinks it will work -"

The once polite Mr Webber was looking quite annoyed now. "Look," he said loudly. "It's not _real_ cats. It's people dressed up as cats, see? And they do all the singing and dancing."

Looks of bewilderment, horror and confusion passed across the managers' and the Vicomte's faces as their minds toyed with this idea. Before they could start yelling or asking more awkward questions, Christine intervened.

"I think it's a wonderful idea, actually."

Andre, Firmin and Raoul turned to her, mouths opened like a petrified goldfish. "What?!"

She shrugged. "Well, it does. I've always thought cats were fascinating and very proud creatures. It would be very interesting to see the world from their perspective. It's quite an ingenious idea."

The man smiled at her. "Thank you. Would you like to hear a sample?"

Christine happily agreed, while the managers and the Vicomte were still trying to figure out the more confusing words in her speech, like 'very' and 'proud'.

The man handed her a sheet with words on and wandered over to the piano that was conveniently in the office for plot purposes. He began to play a catchy rhythm as Christine sang along, singing 'normally' as the man had said.

When Mr Webber had finished, Andre, Firmin and Raoul still had their goldfish expression in tact. Finally, Andre said;

"Jelly cats? Ridiculous! I thought I'd heard it all. A song about jelly cats…"

"I think you'll find that was 'Jellicle Cats', actually," corrected Christine. She smiled warmly at Mr Webber. "It was a good song."

The man shrugged shyly. "The musical is very popular in England…"

"It would be with the English," muttered Firmin. "They like a laugh."

"Firmin!" hissed Christine.

"I've written more musicals as well, you know," the man continued, deciding to ignore the three men. "I'll show you a sample of some…"

The man played some more, and explained what musical it was from.

Firmin and Andre were in a critical mood now, and weren't going to let this drop.

"First cats," muttered Andre. "Now a musical about some guy called Joseph and his coat, of all things…"

"I think it's cute," said Raoul. Firmin stood on his foot.

On the other side of the office, Christine and the man where talking more about musicals. "And this," the man said proudly, a smile coming onto his face. "Is possibly my most famous piece…"

_DUUUNNNNN…DUN DUN DUN DUN DUUUNNNN…_

The music was loud and spooky, but in an enchanting kind of way. Everyone in the office listened, amazed, mentally agreeing that it was brilliant… but strangely… well, familiar…

It was Christine who clicked first. "Oh," she whispered.

Meanwhile, deep underground, a musical genius known as Erik, Opera Writer and Professional Phantom, heard a very strange tune.

In fact, it wasn't strange at all. It was familiar. It was _his_ tune.

Erik paused midway between writing music and listened. It _was_ his song! It was usually the music played when he appeared in a crowded room, or was about to strangle someone. But he wasn't doing any of those things…

He listened for a few more seconds, then shrugged. Ah, well, if the music called for it…

Grabbing his cloak, the Phantom jumped in his gondola and began to make his way above ground to the Opera Populaire.

Above ground, Firmin was confused.

He'd made a mental note to dislike this man, but even he had to admit this music was captivating. Yet something about it was strange…

From across the room, Christine was trying to silently get his attention. There was a kind of urgency in her eyes. It was like she was trying to tell him some-

Damn it! thought Firmin, as he realised. This is the music I always seem to hear whenever that damned Phantom appears! Which means he's probably going to appear _any moment now!_

A gasp and a small whimper beside him told him that Andre and Raoul had, too, realised why this music was so familiar. The man, completely nonplussed, continued to play, whilst the soprano, the managers and the Vicomte looked uneasily around the room for the glimpse of a white mask.

_He's going to appear any moment now…_

Outside Firmin's office, above the stage, there was a small tingle of a chandelier moving.

"STOP PLAYING!!" yelled all four people at once.

_Any moment now…_

The man stopped, confused. "Is there something wrong?" he asked politely. But Christine, Firmin, Andre and Raoul were staring, eyes wide at the door, as if waiting for someone to burst through it.

_Any moment…now…?_

And then, just after a few seconds, the door flew open, and a man in cloak and white half mask did burst through it.

"NO ONE EXPECTS THE PHANTOM OF THE OP - oh, _bugger_…"

**Well… my first fanfic. Like it? Hate it? Should I continued to write more short stories about the mysteries and mishaps of the Opera Populaire… or should I just have my laptop confiscated for Offences To The Art Of Fanfiction? Reviews, good or bad, are greatly appreciated! (But bear in mind I'm a fourteen year old who can't spell that well :P)**

**Little-Miss-Vamprechaun**


End file.
